Cats Don't Guard
by Spontaneous Fiction
Summary: They watch. And judge. Experimental one-shot (might extend if response is good enough.) Featuring a grumpy white cat who gets his kicks from teasing old men and following pre-teen paranormal magnets. If interested read and leave a review giving me your opinion.


**A/N:** I ONLY HAVE A FEW SECONDS SO I'LL MAKE THIS QUICK BEFORE THEY DRAG ME AWAY. Cats are awesome mmkay and I love writing from their point of view. So have a random cat fic. Featuring one of my previous OCs (I guess? I mean...he sort of is an OC) Atbash the weird paranormal cat. Bit of an AU cause I love the idea of Stan having a cat that just hangs around the Shack much like Gompers the Goat does. Oh no, _they found me. OKLATERBYEEEEEEE_.

Disclaimer: I AINT CLAIMING s**T YO.

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><p><span>Cats Don't Guard. They Watch, and Judge<span>

All in all his life was pretty good. There was a roof over his head, albeit an old and crumbling one, he received food- whenever the old man was least expecting him to break in- and there were plenty of people to watch for his own amusement. He and the old human got along with a powerful rivalry and overall distrust for each other. Whenever he broke into the Shack there was a lot of item throwing and hissing, and even once in a while the crotchety old man found the _all accursed _broom to use as a weapon. Still, he'd had worse. Plus he was too stubborn to up and leave to find a better home in the town. The old shack in the woods was his nice and peaceful home, where he figured nothing in his life could go wrong. That was-

"Grunkle Stan! I didn't know you had a cat!" Mabel cried happily upon seeing him on the porch one morning.

-Until-

"Mabel don't touch that thing! It's feral and might have rabies!" Dipper said, but his words had no effect on the older twin.

-_they had showed up._ The girl danced right up to his perch and reached out to pet him, but he had leapt away from her. Mabel pouted and got lower to the ground, wiggling a finger at him.

"Here kitty-kitty," she called softly. Honestly, did she really think that would work? He crouched defensively, yellow eyes trained on the colorful sweater monstrosity in front of him. He'd had enough experience with the old man to know what close contact with humans meant. Sure enough, Stan showed up behind Mabel and threw a can in his direction. He scrammed before it even hit the ground.

"And stay away you fur-ball!" Stan shouted after the cat.

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel whined. "That was mean! You don't throw things at your own pets." Stanford Pines snorted.

"Please, that's nothing but a white haired free-loader. It's not my cat kid," he grunted before returning into the Shack. He had better things to do with his day. Like scam tourists. Mabel looked sadly at the spot where the white cat had been. Seeing it had made her miss her brownish gray one from back home in Piedmont. And no amount of cat stuffed animals could replace the joy of holding an actual cat that purred and meowed. She put her hands on her hips and marched back into the Shack, determination taking over. Dipper recognized that look. Her mouth was set into a firm line and her eyes were completely focused.

"Mabel, please tell me you're not going to-"

"Dipper! I'm going to friend that cat!"

"-anndd never mind."

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><p>He hissed to himself. Where was the nice brown haired man? He had always given him food and even milk in the past. There were no cold winter nights with that man in the Shack. He had always been welcome in those days. He tucked his paws under his snowy chest. Ever since the old grey man had taken over he had become less and less welcome in the Shack, and he didn't understand why. Or why the nicer man was gone. Maybe this season he would find out.<p>

"Ugh Grunkle Stan. No one ever believes what I say," a voice said. His ears perked and he looked down from his tree branch. The smaller child was in the woods. Not the overly pink one though. The other one. He sat up, watching his actions. The boy was driving nails into the trees and hanging up wooden things. Curious. Why did humans need to attach wood to wood in such noisy ways? He would never understand it. The boy hammered away at another tree as he began to have a thought. Well, seeing as he was a cat it became a plot rather quickly. He knew that he had no power to find the nice brown haired man. Not when he was unwelcome in the Shack. But this human child was, and certainly seemed the right type.

Without warning, he yowled down to the boy and in doing so nearly scared Dipper senseless. Dipper let out a yelp of surprise, dropping everything to the forest ground. He climbed down from the tree, padding carefully over to the boy. Dipper's eyes widened in recognition.

"You're the cat from this morning, aren't you?" it came out as a statement more than a question. Dipper didn't expect a cat to answer a question anyways. The cat swished his tail in response. Response?

"Wait, do you understand me?" Dipper got lower to the ground, looking inquisitively at it. Another swish and a slow blinking of its yellow eyes. Dipper let out a breath, weirded out by the fact that a cat was listening and kind of responding to him, and that _he_ was actually talking to it. He knew this town was crazy.

"This is insane. I'm losing it. Two days here and I'm talking to a cat," Dipper said, sitting on the grass. The cat got up and began walking away, deeper into the forest. Normally, a boy would ignore a strange white cat walking away into the woods. But Dipper had a curiosity the size of Russia. And just as the cat expected-

"Hey, wait up!" Dipper called, getting up and following.

-hook, line, and sinker. Humans. What would he do without their constant amusement?

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><p><strong>AN:** this was intended as a one-shot. Now I might just accidentally continue, but ONLY if I get a good response out of this. Obviously it'll be more AU than I thought in the first Author's Note. Like, a parallel AU. Plus, implied Stan Twin Theory cause I love that one. Let me know what you all think before I start up a second chapter.


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